Pure Romance parties are for classy closet sluts.  Which is why I’m hosting one this weekend.  I’ve actually never had the opportunity to attend one, so I’m looking forward to this new and interesting experience.  A group of sexually experimental girls cooped up in a living room with wine, chocolate, sex toys, and lubricants.  I’ll let your minds wander for a moment.

When it comes to Pure Romance, my initial reaction was a gag reflex.  The name itself sort of suggests prissy-pants foo-foo bullshit.  Despite the fact that I’m fully capable of “making love”, I’m a bigger fan of fucking.  I don’t have sex because I’m looking for an intimate connection (although I do believe physical intimacy can contribute to it in a big way).  I have sex because I want an orgasm.  Kama Sutra soul-searching, sweet nothings, and tears of joy are not involved in my sexual experiences.  Nor will they ever be.  Yawn.  I’d rather roll the route of dirty talk, semi-freaky foreplay, and a big fucking finale.  Literally.  I expected the Pure Romance gig to be too subtle and subdued for my liking.

Now that I’ve had the opportunity to view the online store, and chat with my party consultant, I must admit that I was wrong.  Apparently, Pure Romance can be as PG or as XXX as you make it.  There’s a reason that men, children, and anybody under 18 are not allowed.  Period.  If some lip gloss and lotion is what your gaggle of girls is aiming for, cool.  They’ve got it.  But my posse is targeting some tantalizing treasures.  Toys, lubricants, blindfolds, bondage.  Whatever fits the bill.  This seems the perfect opportunity to think kink.  Try some new things.  Be adventurous.  Or at least as adventurous as my boyfriend can handle.  I think anal beads might freak him out at this point in time.  Don’t worry, babe…I’ll hold off on those for now

Looking ahead to Saturdays festivities, I’m trying to generate a shopping list.  I firmly believe that a certain amount of pain equal a lovely amount of pleasure.  My man knows to pull my hair, throw me around, pin my hands down, and have his way with me.  I’m thinking to give him a little extra control, perhaps we’ll explore blindfolds and handcuffs.  And maybe to bring out our inner animalistic tendencies, we can test out some feathers, fur, and leather.  As a treat, we can try something flavored.  And because I know he appreciates technologically superior pieces of equipment, I’ll try for something with all the bells and whistles.  The problem will be narrowing down my wish list.

So come one, come all (with an over 18-year-old vagina).  You can get something naughty with spice or sweet and nice, pink and pretty or black and bold, metal and scary or soft and hairy.  I plan to provide a full update following the gathering.  I suspect you envision tales of massive lesbian orgies, greased up bodies rubbing up against one another, whips and chains and lace, and a big nude pillow fight.  And since we’re such dirty girls, we’ll have to take some time to clean up before the party is over.  We shall see.